


Better in Red

by mokuyoubi



Category: Firefly
Genre: Bloodplay, Established Relationship, F/M, Knifeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokuyoubi/pseuds/mokuyoubi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Shhh,” River says, and Jayne’s brain goes from half-asleep to fully awake when he feels the cool kiss of stainless steel against his lips.  “Don’t speak, and I won’t have to hurt you.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better in Red

Jayne isn’t a heavy sleeper—in his job, that’s as good as a death sentence—so it says something ‘bout the girl’s skill that he doesn’t stir until she’s already straddling his hips. He blinks blearily, and the room is dark ‘cept for a candle by the bedside. “Wh—”

“Shhh,” River says, and Jayne’s brain goes from half-asleep to fully awake when he feels the cool kiss of stainless steel against his lips. “Don’t speak, and I won’t have to hurt you.” 

The rest of the crew might think he’s stupid, but Jayne knows when to keep his mouth shut. Right now, with 90 pounds of crazy in his lap, not only willing but capable of slitting his throat, Jayne bites his tongue. 

“Good,” River says, pleased. She taps the blade once, sharply, against his mouth, then draws her wrist back, snaking the tip of the knife along his throat and over his shirt. The bevel of the clip catches on the fabric, and the serrated edge leaves a tear along the chest. 

Jayne grits his teeth against an annoyed outburst. Girl has a fondness for ruinin’ his favourite shirts. But at least she hasn’t drawn blood this time. Yet. 

She hooks the tip in one of the holes and gives a tug to widen the tear. She lays the flat of the blade against the bared skin and traces the line of his muscles down his stomach and circles his belly button. Jayne is…curious is maybe the best word for it. Given her potential for doing damage, this is surprisingly pleasant. 

It’s not entirely unexpected, but maybe a little unwelcome, when his cock begins to stir in his breeches. Jayne’s had more than one bed-partner remark on his unhealthy appreciation for artillery and his habit of bringing it to bed. He’s always admired a woman who knows her way around a weapon, and on toppa being as pretty as a picture, River can be downright deadly with any damn thing she picks up. 

She’s also observant. She notices the growing bulge in his pants and quirks a brow at him. There’s something in the curve of her mouth—more than amusement, but with her, it’s difficult to tell. Jayne sucks in a nervous breath when she presses her thumb against the button on his pants and gives a quick tug with the knife. Then button makes a dull clink against the floor when she sweeps it aside. 

“Now just wha—” Jayne begins to ask, but then the blade is against his throat, cutting into the skin, and he can feel it giving way, the slow trickle of blood seeping out. Anyone else might be terrified, and there’s a hint of that, too. Mostly, though, his heart’s beating double-time in anticipation, hot sparks of arousal skipping through his veins. 

“I said _don’t speak_ ,” River purrs. There’s mischief in her eyes and when she draws her gaze down to his neck, she licks her lips. When he nods his head, she turns the blade, the soft copper catching his blood, and she brings it to her mouth. Her tongue darts out for the briefest moment, before withdrawing, dark red, and she makes a curious sound that sends Jayne’s cock throbbing. 

“Now,” she says, and scoots back enough to get her hands on the opening of his pants and pulling. The zipper splits down the middle, and further, right down the seam¬, leaving his cock bare, standing at attention. 

Jayne holds his breath, but he doesn’t have to wait long before she’s drawing the edge of the blade down his belly, following the line of hair down. She skates the blade past his cock, down to his balls, digging in with enough pressure to cross the line from pleasure to pain. He hisses out a breath and tries not to move. 

When she brings the knife up, tracing the vein on his cock with the tip, his hips strain against her weight for more. He should probably be worried, or moving to stop her; anything other than lying her completely at her mercy, chest heaving with each breath. 

Without thinking, he reaches out for her. His hands wrap around her thighs right below the hem of her flimsy little dress. Her skin is hot and impossibly soft beneath his touch and when he draws a thumb up higher, she makes a startled sound that catches in the back of her throat. Her eye’s narrow and with her free hand she grabs his wrist and presses it back against the bed. 

“No touching, either,” she says, and to drive the point home makes a quick flick of her wrist above his chest, making a jagged cut along his breastbone. It’s barely more than a scratch, red but not bleeding, but the sting just makes Jayne harder. 

It doesn’t help when River ducks her head and traces the cut with her tongue, then further up to the drying blood at his throat. She closes her lips around the wound and sucks. When she leans back, her bottom lip looks swollen, caught between her teeth. She hikes her skirt up to her hips and he catches a glimpse of white panties, before she’s pulling herself up with hands on his hips. The teeth of the blade dig into his pelvis, threatening to draw blood, but that’s not enough to distract him as she slides into place over his cock. Her panties are fucking _soaking_ , slippery with it and when she drags the cotton over the length of him it feels like she’s wrapped around him. 

Everything on the ship is silent, and Jayne can hear every soft sound that escapes River as she moves—the sighs that whisper from her lips when she bucks forward gently, the breathy, half-swallowed cries she makes when he rocks up to meet her, the moans when she grinds down hard. Her eyes are closed, lashes fluttering against her cheekbones, mouth hanging open in the most inviting way. 

One of her straps has fallen from her shoulder and with every movement it slides lower down her arm, baring more and more skin. When Jayne reaches out she doesn’t stop him from rolling it down enough to bare one of her breasts. His other hand sinks into her hair and when he tugs she goes. His mouth closes over her nipple, gently tracing at first, then biting down, suckling between tongue and teeth. She shudders against him, her high-pitched cry close to his ear. Her hips stutter up and back, and if her gorram underwear weren’t in the way, he would be inside her now. 

Jayne gives another tug on her hair, tilts his head back, and then their mouths are sliding together, hot and wet and desperate. River’s kiss is all teeth. Her hand winds between their torso, blade warm from their skin, its edge threatening to split skin with every breath. Jayne grabs her wrist, thumb pressing into delicate skin, between bones, and he twists. She makes a sound of discomfort, but he still knows she’s letting him, when she doesn’t struggle. Her hand loosens and he grabs the hilt of the knife. 

River sits back with an appraising look and when he taps at her thigh with the flat of the blade, she draws the hem of her dress higher over her hips and up her stomach. He drags the knife along the waist of her panties and she tucks her thumb in the fabric, pushing up on her knees long enough to wiggle out of them, getting one leg free. She wraps a hand around his cock and sits back in a fluid motion, taking him deep inside and coming to rest on her heels. 

Jayne grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut tight, willing himself not to come right then. She’s tight and slick around him, and she keeps shifting, each tiny movement sending sensation skittering through him. She sets a torturous pace, starting slow and working faster and faster, but never quite fast enough before she slows again, grinding her hips in a lazy circle, and the smile on her face says she knows she’s driving him crazy. 

“Gorramit, girl,” he grits out, and River’s giggle is cut short when he thrusts up and she moans. There’s a rush of wetness when she tightens her muscles around him and she falls forward, hands planted on his chest. 

When he pushes her hair from her face, there’s a look of concentration on her face as she angles herself just right. Her breath comes a little more harshly when she finds it. “That’s cheating,” she tells him mildly, with an underlying edge of warning. 

Jayne lays the blade against the soft skin of her inner knee and presses in enough to give the promise of pain as he drags it up her thigh. When he reaches the v of her legs, she freezes, holding still in that unearthly way of hers. He’s very aware of every breath he draws, of his heartbeat and the counter beat of hers, throbbing around his cock. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, and oh-so-gently turns the blade as he brushes over her slick folds, “but see, I have the knife now.” River’s expression tells him she isn’t impressed, that delicate arch of her brow and pursed lips. 

An alarm chirps from the wall, telling Jayne it’s 0600, time to roll out of bed and start his morning workout routine. Soon the rest of the ship will be stirring. River tips her head to the side and darts a hand out to stop the alarm. In a movement too quick from Jayne to follow until it’s over, she takes the wrist of his hand holding the knife and pins it back to the bed. 

“No more time for playing,” she says, with an almost regretful expression. And then she’s riding him hard and fast, making the mattress squeak with every movement. She knows just the right pace and angle to get him off fast. The muscles of her thighs squeeze tight around his waist, powerful enough to crush him, if that was her intention. Jayne’s man enough to admit that he finds that hot. 

On a downwards thrust, she leans forward, hair curtaining his face, and opens her mouth over his. She licks past his lips and he lets her control the pace of the kiss. He’ll follow her lead for now, because he knows where it will end him. He can’t help reaching out for her hip with his free hand. His fingers curl into her skin, slick with sweat, and slip down between her thighs. 

She’s so fucking wet when his fingers brush against her clit; he can almost taste her on the tip of his tongue. She jerks and lets out a high, wordless cry when he circles his thumb against the nub hard and steady, and it’s only seconds before she’s coming, head tossed back. He keeps rubbing even when she begins moaning her protest. She pushes at his hand, but her touch is weak, and something about that just does him in. 

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s reduced the most physically intimidating person he’s ever known to breathy pleas, or maybe it’s just the fact that she’s fucking gorgeous. Either way, he can’t fight his own orgasm. He thrusts up once, twice, and then he’s spilling inside her. 

Barely a second passes for him to catch his breath before River’s rising up on her knees. She swings her leg over and settles down beside him. She wriggles back into her underwear and leans in for a quick peck on the lips. “Happy anniversary,” she says against his lips. 

She starts to rise and Jayne catches her by the wrist. “Where you off to in such a hurry?” he grumbles. 

“Mal will be up in a few minutes; he’ll be all grumbly that no one’s steering his ship,” River says in a dismissive, slightly peeved tone of voice. They’ve all heard her lecture Mal at length about how autopilot works, and they’ve all heard Mal shout over top of her about how much he doesn’t care. 

“But I haven’t given you your anniversary present yet,” Jayne leers at her. 

“Oh, I haven’t given you yours yet, either,” River tells him with a devious grin.


End file.
